Archives for posts with tag: meditation

Early Days

January 25, 2025 //

I am sitting at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. I’m not in any hurry, and it’s a cold morning. I’ll enjoy the walk more, watching the sun rise, so I am waiting for daybreak before I get started down the trail. Already there is the faintest smudge of something lighter than darkness on the horizon. Soon.

I woke to my artificial sunrise “alarm”, this morning, quite disoriented and confused about what day it is. It was several minutes before I remembered that it’s Saturday, and that I am enjoying a day off work. I was deeply asleep when the lights came on, and confused about the timing. It’s mornings like this that having a well-practiced routine matters most; I just continued through the morning one task at a time until my brain fully woke and I understood.

There’s a sliver of crescent moon visible to the south. Rising? Setting? I’m really not certain, and it moves rather slowly. It seems the sort of thing I should “just know”, perhaps. I don’t really care presently, and my curiosity is fleeting. My attention returns to the eastern horizon, and the hint of daylight developing there. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and give myself this uncomplicated moment of real peace. Moments like these are important to my emotional health and mental wellness. It’s necessary to “recharge my batteries” in anticipation of more complicated or difficult moments – and there will reliably be more of those, eventually. This is a very human experience. Change is. Thoughts are complicated by feelings. I sit with that awhile. It’s tempting sometimes to demonize emotions, but I’ve found that although thoughts may inform and guide us, our emotions are what enrich and define our experience. How we handle our emotions (and the emotions of others) defines our character.

I think about stormier times in my life when I was less able to manage (and respect) my emotions. I’ve come a long way. I smile to myself. I’m still 100% made of human. That’s as it should be. Time and practice, experience and self-reflection, have brought me a long way down my path. A worthy journey, and some days it feels like I’ve barely begun.

I glance at that sliver of moon again. Definitely rising. I smile to myself, feeling the promise and potential of a new day. There will be verbs involved, and no one can walk my path for me. We’re each having our own experience – and the journey is the destination. I think about a far away friend having his own difficulties in life and love, and silently wish him well. (Dude, this too will pass. Take care of yourself. Put a couple quiet solitary miles on those boots, and take some time for self-reflection.)

There’s a bold orange streak along the eastern horizon now. I sigh quietly, smile at the rising sun, and lace up my boots. Looks like time to begin again.

Tags be here now, begin again, breathe, breathe exhale relax, do the verbs, each having our own experience, meditation, non attachment, practicing the practices, results may vary, self-care, self-reflection, sometimes it's hard, stay on the path, walk on, we become what we practice

Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter

Sound Sensitivity

January 24, 2025 //

Used to be I had major issues with sound sensitivity, particularly in the voice frequency range. That seemed to be so much less problematic the last couple years, since shortly before the pandemic, I think. I never stopped to wonder why; I attributed that change to progress through therapy. Seemed obvious. Now I’ve got these hearing aids, and my sound sensitivity is back. lol Apparently I’d just been losing my hearing in the voice frequency range. LOL G’damn it.

I’m laughing over it more than anything else. Cosmic humor for those inclined to perceive (or create) a god. Last night I went to bed just a bit early, deeply fatigued from fighting to stay relaxed and merry in spite of my serious annoyance over “every little thing” to do with a variety of human sound effects that sourced with the human beings in the room with me. It wasn’t personal. Hell, it wasn’t even out of the ordinary – it was merely audible in a whole new way. I’ve got my hearing back, so it should have been predictable that I would also regain some measure of my sound sensitivity, and irritation to do with chomping, lip-smacking, slurping, clanging of dishes and utensils, banging of dishes and pots, stomping of feet, forced laughter, dealing with congestion, needlessly loud remarks when I’m listening to something else… all the regular human stuff. Fucking hell human beings are ridiculously noisy. I made the mistake of mentioning it aloud with some surprise at the observation, and instead of any sympathy whatsoever, what I got from the Anxious Adventurer (and primary source of most of the noise) was “maybe you should turn your hearing aids down”? (“How about maybe you try to be a little quieter – or at least show some fucking consideration and understanding, ffs?” Was my unstated response.) I was surprised at the callous disregard for my experience, and my somewhat hurt feelings and notable irritation were a major part of deciding to go to bed. I just didn’t feel like dealing with being treated dismissively in my own house by a human being who I expect to care about my experience at least a little bit and who receives a fuck-ton of consideration from me day-to-day.

…I may still have some unresolved feelings about this, apparently, I should deal with that. (So much for mostly laughing about it!)

I sigh to myself. The Anxious Adventurer may legitimately “not get it”, and is in some regards still half-feral. I remind myself to be patient and kind, and to coach more often than I snarl.

So. Yeah. There’s that. It’s otherwise quite a pleasant morning. I woke up a few minutes ahead of my artificial sunrise, feeling rested and cozy and warm. My morning routine was… routine (hearing aids and all). The drive to work was pleasant and uncomplicated, and traffic was light. The office is comfortably warm and quiet. The details of the day ahead seem well-planned, and I feel relaxed and confident. All things considered, a very good day for this one individual human being.

I made the mistake of peeking at the news headlines. This terrifying new administration is already getting going with excessive zeal with their attack on immigrants, without regard to the rights of citizens, military veterans, or consideration of basic human decency – it’s appalling, and shameful. Attacks on the basic human rights of women are already beginning. Attacks on the fundamentals of democracy itself, too. The whole thing is a grotesque mockery of anything to do with America. I don’t know what I expected, and I guess I’m not surprised; when someone tells you who they are, believe them. The voters knew they were electing a misogynist xenophobic criminal fraudster in November, and they did it anyway. Horrifying, yes. Shocking, maybe. A surprise? No, not really. Maybe we’ll learn something and start providing education in emotional intelligence, and critical thinking, in K-12 education after this mess is sorted out? At least that ignorant huckster in the President’s office isn’t fucking immortal. (Note to self: don’t read the news. You know it’s terrible, already. Definitely don’t read the comments – that’s where the trolls live.)

I breathe, exhale, and relax and let that shit go. I pull myself back to this “now” moment, this place, this time. I’ve got enough to do in front of me, and plenty to take care of without getting myself all stirred up over things I can’t fix or prevent. That won’t stop me from being compassionate, aware, or speaking up when I see this bullshit going on. I make a note on my calendar to write to my elected representatives – that’s still a step worth taking, though it often feels futile. I stay committed to being frank about my thoughts on these trying times with friends, neighbors, even casual strangers when the topics come up. I refuse to pretend I don’t care, or to stand silent in the face of cruelty and injustice. I’m just not okay with that.

Another breathe. Another moment to relax and bring myself back to “now”. Trying times. I smile to myself, and give myself a moment of compassion. I’ve seen a lot in 61 years, and some of it has been bad. This too shall pass. For real; change is.

I take a phone call. Finish my writing. Begin again.

Tags anti-fascism, begin again, do better, do the right thing, don't be cruel, don't feed the trolls, emotional self sufficiency, meditation, mental-health, mindfulness, no doomscrolling, non attachment, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, sound sensitivity, speak truth to power, support our troops, TBI, The Art of Being, there are verbs involved, this too shall pass, vote, wellness, what makes America great?, what matters most?, Wheaton's Law, write your congressman

Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, winter

To Sleep, Perchance to… Sleep.

January 19, 2025 //

I woke from a restless slumber to a note from my Traveling Partner letting me know he hadn’t been sleeping well, himself. Sometimes that’s how it is. He doesn’t need me to rush back from breakfast with The Author, nor bring him an interesting bite of brunch from a favorite local restaurant. Maybe just make him some scrambled eggs later, he suggests. Easy enough.

I dress for another cold morning. 25°F this morning, definitely a winter morning. It’s clear and icy and I drive to the trailhead still thinking about my dreams. The evening went later than it typically does (for me), and although my sleep was restless, it was filled with dreams and I slept past my usual waking time. I’m not complaining; my dreams were more thought provoking than distressing, and I clearly needed the sleep. My dreams seemed filled with personal significance and reminders of important things, but now they are slipping away, leaving behind only colorful surreal remnants, and an incoherent recollection. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let them go. They’re only dreams.

I lace up my boots for my walk down the frosty path. I’ve got my cane, and my headlamp. I open my gear tote in the back of the Mazda, and pull out my hat, scarf, and gloves. My writing will be done before I walk and after I return, from the warmth of the car. It is too cold for sitting at the midway point writing in the darkness of the morning. The cold path beckons me, and I go…

… I stepped along the path briskly in the cold. The frost sparkled everywhere that my light hit it. So beautiful! So cold. My thoughts stayed quite practical, fixed upon the moment of cold quiet darkness. The path was icy in spots. I walked with care but didn’t slow my pace any more than necessary for safety. I was ready to be done with it before I reached my halfway point, and considered turning back again and again, until turning back had finally become likely to be further than any sort of shortcut. Then, I simply pressed on with determination, ready to be done with it.

I think thoughts about the delightful time I am spending with The Author. Making it an annual thing is discussed. It sounds like a great plan. I grin, thinking about our visit to Powell’s yesterday, and their rare book room. Wonderful! I feel the warmth of my friend’s affection all over again remembering his gift – a book I am wanting to read, in an unusual edition. I’m moved, and grateful. I’m fortunate to have the friends I do. This friendship is special, indeed.

When the path finally turns me back to head towards the eastern horizon, I see an ever so faint hint of pale orange painted across the sky, clinging the the ground and silhouetting the distant trees. The sky began to lighten, a new day becoming more real each moment.

By the time I reached the car, I’m quite grateful to be at the end of my brief journey. Soon enough, coffee and a bite of breakfast with an old friend. We make good conversation and have not yet exhausted the many things we’d hoped to catch up on. I hope we find breakfast worth lingering over, and something to do to occupy us sufficiently long to let my beloved sleep awhile more. I sigh and warm my hands.

…A good time to begin again…

Tags be here now, begin again, connection, dress for the weather, it's a metaphor, meditation, presence, seeing another sunrise, self-care, sleepless nights, the journey is the destination, to sleep perchance to dream, walking a cold path

Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being

In the Winter Fog

January 17, 2025 //

This morning is cold and foggy. I slept in (for some values of “sleeping in”), and still arrived at my selected trailhead well before dawn. This trail is lit for much of the distance I walk, but beyond the vineyard, near the river, I still needed my headlamp. I’ve been, and returned, and it is still quite dark, though there is a hint of daybreak on the horizon. It’s not yet visible from the lit area of the trail, or the parking lot. The new artificial lights are much too bright.

The morning is foggier than I expected, and somewhat warmer (still quite cold, near freezing). The fog makes everything seem quieter and more mysterious in the darkness. I see the headlights of workers arriving to a nearby construction sight, filtered through the fog, before I hear the sounds of their pick-up trucks. I’m okay with that. The dance of the lights over irregular pavement is fascinating, and I don’t care for the noise at all. I walked and watched with wonder, alone with my thoughts.

The Author arrives later this morning. 10:30 or so, though I’m not certain whether that means to the house or at the airport. I didn’t ask for clarification – I guess I’ll know soon enough. lol I’m excited about this visit from a dear long-time friend. It happens too rarely. I think of other far away friends and wonder whether to plan a trip to see some of them in the summer? I wonder whether my Traveling Partner will be up to being without me for a week…or in shape to go with me?

I sit quietly with my thoughts. The sky is beginning to be a hue of deep gray-blue, visibly no longer “night”. A new day. There are things to do, and a visit with a friend to look forward to. I consider getting a coffee somewhere nearby, but I am just as content to sit here, watching the sky slowly lighten as dawn unfolds. G’damn, sometimes I am such a simple and easily satisfied creature. I chuckle quietly to myself. I’m okay with it.

… It’s time to begin again.

Tags be here now, begin again, beginnings, breathe exhale relax, CBT, meditation, old friends, pain and pain management, self-care, self-reflection, walking my own path, winter fog

Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter

This Mortal Moment

January 14, 2025 //

I am sitting quietly, listening to the woosh of the ventilation and the zing and buzz of my tinnitus. Just that, nothing more. Some minutes pass before I consider my keyboard or my thoughts. I just sit awhile, with this infinite seeming moment. It’s isn’t though; it’s quite finite and mortal and limited by this space and whatever time and attention I give it. Just a moment. Sometimes a moment seems so fragile and fleeting. A metaphorical drop in the bucket of a lifetime of moments…but…how big is that bucket, anyway?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sip my coffee. I give a bit of attention to the pain in my neck, my back, my headache, and then move on; my thoughts are elsewhere. Here. Now. Just being. I’m not doing anything right now – other than making a point of noticing the stillness, and this moment, and writing a few words before letting stillness and quiet overtake me again. I exhale slowly, hearing my breath and noticing that the sounds of the ventilation, my breath, and my tinnitus all seem quite “the same volume”. I’m not certain they are, particularly considering the “sound” of my tinnitus isn’t a “real” sound at all – no one hears that but me.

I stretch, and sigh, and adjust the way I’m sitting in this rather uncomfortable office chair. It’ll be a day of it, though a short one. I see a new doctor today. For a moment I wonder how that will go, and whether I’ve chosen well or poorly. I put all that aside, again; the time is not now. “Now” is just this moment, here. Quiet. Still. Alone. It’s quite pleasant and… something else. Fulfilling? Satisfying? Peaceful. For a moment (this moment) there is no chaos. This is a chosen, deliberate, willful thing. I am choosing peace and order in this solitary moment. It isn’t much, as peace and order goes, and it surely does nothing noteworthy to improve the state of our messy chaotic terrifying world – but it is here, and now, and it is real. (No one is dying in this moment, in this place. Real peace. I’m choosing it. You can too. So can “they” – and by “they” I mean all those beyond these walls who are choosing to kill, or to send others to fight and kill and die. Those are most definitely choices and could be handled quite differently.)

I sigh quietly, annoyed to have let my thoughts slip from this moment to other moments, other places – other intentions. I pull my mind back, and begin again. Here. Now. This moment. This place. This feeling of peace and contentment and stillness.

Later this week The Author will visit me and my Traveling Partner, and I am eager to see him – it’s been too long. 2016? 2017? Something like that, I think. I remember his visit to help me move into #59… or was it the duplex? Was it both? He’s a good friend – willing to help with a move. Hell, he helped me move to Portland from Fresno, both of us driving vehicles not ideally up for that challenge. That’s friendship, right there. This has been an enduring friendship since we first met… 1996? I think so. He has visited me. I have visited him (though less often). I think about making a trip down his way maybe this Spring – if my Traveling Partner is up to being without me for a few days when that time comes. Could be fun. A chance to see many old friends, and renew those with shared moments and new memories. A worthwhile endeavor.

I smile and my thoughts move on. I look at the time, reluctantly. The work day calls for my attention. My coffee is almost gone. Daybreak is visible on the horizon, beyond the windows. It’s time to begin again.

Tags be here now, begin again, being present, breathe exhale relax, emotional self sufficiency, friendship, health, inactivity, lasting friendships, meditation, mental-health, mindfulness, Moments, now, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, self-care, taking care of me, TBI, there are verbs involved, Vita Contemplativa

Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, winter

Early Days

Share this:

Sound Sensitivity

Share this:

To Sleep, Perchance to… Sleep.

Share this:

In the Winter Fog

Share this:

This Mortal Moment

Share this:

Archives